


Wilcome Featherfoot: Patron of the Fallen Exile

by Pajama_Han



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dungeons and Dragons 5e, Gen, Halfling, Magic, just posting it here so I can link my friends to it lol, my 5e character's backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:54:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23095894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pajama_Han/pseuds/Pajama_Han
Summary: Wilcome has always been the odd one out. How could the shy little halfling possibly be strong when the one person in the world who understood him passes away?





	Wilcome Featherfoot: Patron of the Fallen Exile

**Author's Note:**

> Ayo, this is my newest character's backstory (not in the same campaign as Hushe and Kaylie or Lulee and Cliff!). I'm mostly just posting it so I can easily link it to my friends, but hey, if you like it, leave a kudos.  
> Aight, peace.

In Tchitchi Village, long ago, an old bookseller lived with his adopted son. The poor boy was the odd-one out at the orphanage, shying away from other children and watching the world with big, curious eyes, the colour of the sky at dusk. The old bookseller took the boy under his wing and taught him how to read, and after that, taught him every other subject under the sun.  
Wilcome had a thirst for knowledge like the old man had never seen before, so eager to learn something, anything new! The boy and his adopted father spent days and nights on end absorbing the information from every book and scroll they could grasp.

Though lovely at the time, the old man thought he may have been sheltering the little halfling too much. Bah, he thought, let the imbeciles enjoy the sun and festivities, the work of scholars is found indoors!  
The bookseller’s ideals passed along to Wilcome and the boy found himself withdrawn, finding joy in stories of great adventures rather than attempting them himself. After fifteen blissful years together, the bookseller grew gravely ill.

“My child,” The man spoke his dying words, cradelling Wilcome’s tear-stained cheek in his hand, “I will be watching over you always. I shall turn to stars and light the night for you. Stars are full of wisdom, my child. Stars are ancient and… powerful things.” a coughing fit. Wilcome wiped blood from the corner of his father’s mouth.  
“Stars are made of gasses and heat, Papa,” Wilcome choked back more tears, “You taught me that.”  
The bookseller closed his eyes, “I can see now that I have forgotten the greatest lesson of all…” he took Wilcome’s hand in his own and squeezed it comfortingly, “Offer kindness to all things, my child. Living, gaseous, and all things in-between. You have been kind to me since you were that small child I adopted. Please, son…” his wrinkly eyes trembled as he looked at his son one last time, “Be kind to the stars for me.”

-~- 

Ten years had past since Wilcome’s father passed away. The halfling couldn't bear to sell any book in his father’s shop, so it has become more of a personal library, with many shelves being left to collect dust. He survived on the funds his father left behind, not making eye contact with any merchants as he purchased his food. Wilcome had become even more withdrawn and introverted, and his studies were aimless; when he could help it, he only ever left his bookshop home at night when he was certain there would be no other people out and about. Could anyone blame him for being so withdrawn? The one person in the world who understood him had been gone for such a dreadfully long time.

It was a warm night, midsummer, and floating fireflies were buzzing to and fro on the hill where Wilcome sat on his checkered picnic blanket. A small lantern illuminated the book in his lap and he nibbled on a scone. According to his book, his father’s favourite constellation should be directly above him tonight. Wilcome smiled to himself and extended his telescope to view the shimmering ocean of stars above him. 

There! 

Wilcome grinned as he traced the brightest stars together with imaginary lines, forming the angular but unmistakable shape of a swan. The halfling admired it, and felt a harsh pang of sadness in his heart. It wasn't fair, Wilcome decided, setting his telescope aside. The one person he could rely on was gone, the one person who loved him truly and deeply and whom Wilcome loved in return… He was smart enough to know no one could live forever, but the halfling couldn’t help but feel upset.  
“I miss you so much, papa…” Wilcome looked up at the stars, tone forlorn, “I wish you were still here to guide me.”

“Wishing?” 

Wilcome startled at the soft voice coming from seemingly nowhere. He looked around, finding himself completely alone.  
“Who-” his voice squeaked and he cleared his throat, “Who goes there?” He tried to sound brave.

Nearly indistinguishable from the lazy fireflies, a golden shimmer of light drifted through the air towards the frightened halfling.  
The voice that seemed to gently ring in his mind, neither male nor female, distinctly sorrowful, once again spoke.  
“Wishing can not give you everything.”  
Wilcome adjusted his glasses and observed the shimmer curiously, “My word, are you the one addressing me?” He looked away shyly, “W-well, of course I know wishing cannot make things come true. Especially in my case…”  
“Nor in mine,” the light lamented, “I lost someone dear to me, very long ago, but it still hurts.”

Wilcome extended two cupped hands, as though scooping the light up into them. Surprisingly, the light moved with his hands and he brought it close to his face, “Really? Me as well, I miss him so terribly…” he thought about his father and his lip quivered, “It’s been so long, but I still cannot grasp that I’ll never see him again.”  
“I have been aching for her love for centuries,” the shimmer sighed, “How long have you been missing your dear one?”  
Wilcome looked away, a bit awkward, “T-ten years. I know it's nothing compared to your grief.”  
The light seemed to shake its whole self ‘no’, “One’s grief cannot be compared to that of another. For anyone, even just one _day_ without the love of your dear one can feel like an eternity.” The light seemed to shiver and it's voice wobbled, “If I could see her smile just one last time… hear her voice for just one moment… I would be happy for eternity!” The light sobbed and Wilcome moved one of its hands to the back of the shimmer, as though petting it.  
“There, there,” he cooed, forcing back his own tears, “Sweet little light, I want to see my loved one too. I would do anything to bring back my Papa.”

“I… I used to be a star,” the light whimpered, “for falling in love with a mortal, the other stars stripped me of my powers, they exiled me from the sky. I cannot do anything myself.” It floated around Wilcome’s body, as though surveying it, “But you… you have offered such kindness and compassion to even a small glow of light, I sense great potential in you, mortal. I may not have any powers of my own, but perhaps I could give some to you?”  
Wilcome’s eyes widened, “Give me… the power of the stars? Why?” He watched the light hover in front of him.  
“Perhaps if we work together, we can find a way to reconnect with our lost loves?” The light sounded so hopeful, Wilcome’s heart swelled.

“Your cause is noble, Exile. If you would lend me your power, I swear I will do anything I can to help you find and resurrect your love.” Wilcome smiled brightly at the light, “I just know there’s magic strong enough to do it out there!”  
The light shimmered a little brighter, and it's voice grew more calm and strong, “Then… Wilcome Featherfoot, I hereby grant you the powers of the Fallen Exile. _Factum Est!”_  
The light passed through Wilcome’s body, and the halfling gasped as he felt icy cold, then searing hot magical energy pulse through his entire body. He cried out into the night and held a hand to his chest. He felt powerful, and inspired. His eyes flared with golden sparkles and he hurriedly packed up his book, telescope, and picnic and ran back to his bookshop. He had some studying to do!


End file.
